A Very Happy CSI:NY Thanksgiving
by Thorne Lockehart
Summary: One-shot based on holidays, combined with a request by afrozenheart412. D/L/L, Flack/OC team fic  Happy Thanksgiving!


_**A/N: I had a request by afrozenheart412 to write something with Isabella, Danny, and Don with Don saying something is 'magically delicious.' So, after much thought, I've decided to do it!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own no one of CSI:NY. I own Isabella Pacino.**_

_**Pairings: D/L, Flack/OC **_

_**Summary: It's a very happy Thanksgiving in New York! **_

* * *

><p><em>And she's everything I ever wanted<em>

_And everything I need_

_I talk about her, I go on and on and on_

_'Cause she's everything to me  
><em>

Brad Paisley - She's Everything

* * *

><p>"What time is everyone coming over?" Danny asked from the couch in the apartment. Lucy was perched on his lap, big blue eyes glued to the Thanksgiving parade on television. Last year, they had tried to let her see it live and in person, but the crowd had been so massive, it had been impossible. The massive letdown had led to a sulking fit that had lasted two weeks. Danny had decided right then and there that he would never see that look on the four year old's face again.<p>

"The others should be arriving around four," Lindsay replied from the kitchen. Stella had come from New Orleans to see them and was staying at Mac's. "Stella and Jo are coming over in about an hour to help prepare."

"What about my work-wife/kitchen Nazi?" Danny asked, referring to Isabella. He worked with the petite North Carolina native so much, that the running joke at the lab was that she was his work-wife.

"She's coming over to organize and keep you occupied while I play with my work-husband," Lindsay winked. Adam was her work-husband, the two were Mac's lab A-team.

"You're lucky I'm not a jealous man, Montana," he told her. She kissed his cheek and nodded to Lucy's lack of attention to the conversation.

"And when I said Stella, Jo, and Izzy were coming over, I meant get your ass up, move our daughter, and put on pants. Company's coming over," she informed him. Danny gestured to his ensemble of sweatpants and a wife-beater.

"What, this isn't appropriate entertaining attire?" he asked. When Lindsay narrowed her eyes at him and arched her eyebrow, he sighed. "What is this power you have over me, woman?"

"Matrimonial power, dear," she answered, standing up. Danny wound his fingers in hers.

"You're in your pajamas, too," he reminded her, pointing to her tank top and flannel shorts.

"Yes, but I'm getting a team together to cook dinner, smart-ass," she replied with a smirk. "That entitles me to wearing pajamas."

* * *

><p>"Aw, come on, babe, it's a holiday!" Don complained. "That constitutes sleeping in!"<p>

Isabella planted her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrow at her boyfriend with the pillow over his face. "It's Thanksgiving, it's the marathon of foods," she corrected him. "That constitutes me getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to get stuff ready for it."

"Then why do I have to get up?" he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Because it's not fair that I don't get to sleep," she responded. "Come on, please wake up?"

Don groaned. "I hate you, Lionheart," he said. Isabella smiled and sat down on his stomach, moving the pillow out of his face.

"Uh-uh," she contradicted. His vibrant blue eyes met hers and she let out a giggle. "You couldn't hate me if you tried."

"Then you hate me."

"That's still open for debate, but I still need you to get up and help me." She gave him her best puppy-dog look, her long eyelashes fluttering. "Please?"

If there had been any reason she had been put on this Earth, Isabella Rae Pacino was certain that that reason was to see Don Flack smile. His hands rested on her hips, her hands on his shoulders.

"Fine," he conceded. She pressed a kiss to his lips with a triumphant grin.

"Thank you," she singsonged as she hopped off the bed. Her raven hair hung in messy curls down her back, swaying with each step as she skipped out of the bedroom. Thirty-two years old, and she still skipped.

"Do me a favor, will you?" she called from the refrigerator as she gathered the boiled potatoes from the night before. "Go into the pantry and get the following: white sugar, cocoa powder, flour, and vanilla extract."

As as she filled her arms with the perishables from the fridge for her two recipes, she nearly fell backwards. Isabella felt a strong grip on her arms as she was righted again.

"Go get a shower and get dressed, I will gather your ingredients," Don told her. She stretched onto her toes and pecked his cheek.

"What would I do without you?" she uttered rhetorically as she set the things on the counter. She could hear him rifling through things in the kitchen and she realized what a horrible mistake that was. Before she had come along, Don Flack had absolutely no idea what certain containers looked like. The man couldn't boil _water_, let alone an egg. After Isabella cinched the belt on her jeans after her shower, she ran into the kitchen. Various containers were strewn across the counters, bowls stacked on top of each other...

He had found a way to crack open a raw egg and she let out a groan.

"Oh my good dickens, Don!" she complained. She squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Never mind what I would do without you, what the hell would you do without _me_?"

His dark hair was brushed with flour, his eyes wide. The look on his face was so sheepish and wounded, she had to giggle.

"Don't laugh at me, you wanted help!" he defended himself. Isabella's giggles grew louder until she held her side.

"I know and I appreciate the help, but I follow recipes, babe," she replied, stretching onto her toes to brush the flour out of his hair. "I think you just tried to wing it."

"Winging it _is_ my thing," Don agreed, his arm winding around her waist. "You still going to make those cinnamon buns you make for breakfast every year?"

"It's the reason you keep me around, ain't it?" she winked. "Go take a shower and get yourself cleaned up. I got this."

* * *

><p>Lindsay raced for the door as knocks echoed through the apartment. Her bare feet slapped against the hardwoods as she wrenched the door open. Stella had come in from New Orleans late last night, and after not seeing her for two years, Lindsay was ecstatic to see her.<p>

"Stella!" She hugged the Greek woman tightly. Stella returned the embrace tightly, a warm smile on her face.

"Hey, Linds, I brought a Greek spinach pie," she greeted her, holding a pie pan in her free hand. Lindsay eagerly gestured the woman in, giving Mac a hug as well.

"Happy Thanksgiving, you two," she told them. Squeals of 'Unca Mac, Auntie Steyya!' filled the apartment as Hurricane Lucy tore through, tackling Mac's legs.

"Little Lucy!" Stella greeted her, bending down to the little girl's level. Lucy's blonde curls bobbed as she nestled close to the older woman. It was a sweet sight to see, in Lindsay's opinion.

Lucy tugged Stella's hand towards her room, babbling about her toys. Danny and Lindsay had recently painted their daughter's room from white to pink and purchased new bedding for her. It was officially every little girl's dream room.

"Hello there, Mrs. Messer," she heard Jo say. Ellie, Jo's daughter, came in with a polite smile.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" she asked. Lindsay ushered the two into the kitchen.

"The Kitchen Nazi is on her way," she informed them with a smile. When Isabella took command, things gotdone with organization and precision. They referred to her as 'The Kitchen Nazi' due to her aggressive way of organization and bossy attitude.

"The Kitchen Nazi has arrived," a Southern accent announced. Lindsay chuckled, leaning her head out of the kitchen to see Isabella carrying two large bags in her hands. Don was standing in front of her, carrying a bowl with foil on it. Clearly, it was Isabella's potato salad.

"My famous pies," she explained, setting them on the counter. When she saw Stella leaning against the doorway, it was amusing to see a grown woman lunge at her with an excited squeal. "Stella!" she shrieked.

"Hey," Stella greeted her with a hug. "Oh, I've missed you all, I couldn't wait to be here!"

When the men had gone to watch football, Lindsay looked over at Stella and Isabella, busily chopping and stirring. The holidays were such a rare occasion where Isabella would wear a skirt, let alone a dress. Her dark hair was swept over her shoulder in a low ponytail, her ice-blue gaze on her task. The deep red sheath-dress she wore contrasted with her porcelain skin. Lindsay had been envious of the petite CSI's looks and her personality, Danny and Don had both vied for her attention. Now, Isabella seemed to be happy with Don. The two made quite the pair.

"So, Iz, what sort of pies did you bring?" she asked. Isabella let out a giggle, clearly enjoying the memory.

"Chocolate meringue," she answered. "I know how much Danny and Lucy love it, so I left a pie separate just for you three."

The thought of the sweet treat caused Lindsay's mouth to water.

"Don't tell Danny," Lindsay joked lightly. "But I hope you made a separate batch of your potato salad just for me."

The four women had things to bring to the table that each of the men in their lives loved. Danny would live for the chocolate meringue pies, Mac preferred the tapenade, Adam loved the artichoke dip, Don could eat an entire batch of smoked clam dip by himself if the women would let him, Hawkes rather enjoyed the potato salad, and Sid always brought some sort of creme brulee for dessert.

"I think we're all ready," Stella said. Her green eyes were focused on pulling the green bean casserole out of the oven. Listening to Christmas music, enjoying the company of the three women she was closest to, enjoying good food on one of the greatest holidays of the year...

This was what home was to Lindsay Monroe Messer. It was what life was about.

* * *

><p>Don could see his girlfriend setting the table out of the corner of his eye as Lucy slept peacefully on his lap during a movie in the playroom. She looked so completely fixated on her task, those ice-blue eyes of hers on what she was doing. She was wrapping the silverware in cloth napkins, each glass filled with water and six ice cubes. Yes, six ice-cubes.<p>

If Don had dared, he would have gone over and added one more ice-cube to the glasses just to piss her off. Her aversion to odd numbers had been one of the little quirks that he loved about her.

"Hey, can someone help me set the table?" Isabella called quietly. Don looked down at his surrogate niece before standing up slowly and setting her in the princess play-bed, creeping out quietly. "I was talking to one of the women, but..."

"I'll help," he offered. Her smile spread across her pretty features as she handed him a few plates and napkins. "I don't know how to do your fancy folding, Trix. You're gonna have to show me."

"I can do that," she replied slowly as she spread each napkin out onto the table. "Now, watch me." His gaze dropped to her small hands as she folded each napkin precisely and perfectly to accommodate the silverware.

"It'd be easier if we all just used paper plates and plastic cups," he joked lightly. She nudged him playfully before pulling out Lucy's toy table.

"Keep it up, Flack, and you and Danny are eating here with Lucy," she informed him. He laughed a bit before pouring the water. "She's little, Don, she only gets four ice-cubes."

"I thought she'd get three," he said. She scowled up at him with a shake of her head.

"Even number," she reminded him. Yes, sometimes those little quirks drove him nuts. He took her hands in his and helped her stand up.

"You ever think about havin' one of those?" he asked. Isabella raised her eyebrow.

"Donnie, I know I'm short, but I'm too tall to use those," she stated. He shook his head.

"A kid of your own to argue about how many ice-cubes to put in his drink," he corrected. She smirked a bit before sliding a cloth napkin onto the intricately dressed table.

"If that's a line, I ain't bitin'," she said.

"Bells?"

"Yeah?"

"We've been together off and on for eight years." She shrugged it off as she set up the little chair. "It's an offer."

Isabella stood up straight, placing her hands on her hips. "I've been thinkin' about it, and I figure, hey, why not? Danno's your work-husband, I figured I should at least be your legal husband," Don said.

She snorted. "That just went from sorta cute to pathetic in a span of two seconds," she replied, walking out.

"Don't make me do it, Bells, 'cause you and I both know I will." He followed after her into the kitchen to bring food out. "Why won't you?"

"Because now is not a good time to ask," she hissed at him as they carried food. Don Flack wasn't a man to give up.

"I'm not asking you to have a kid with me, I'm asking you to marry me," he said once they reached the dining room.

"No," Isabella replied. Her eyes were narrowed at him and her jaw set. His clear indication that that was her final word on the matter.

When they reached their way into the living room, Don had finally had it.

"Isabella Rae Pacino, will you marry me?" His voice was loud enough to call in a dead silence.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her back to him. For one moment, Don was actually afraid of her. He knew every single eye in the room, except Lucy's two closed, were on them, something Isabella hated. She hated being the center of attention and he was putting her on the spot.

"You didn't ask my father's permission," she said slowly. He chuckled.

"Spoke to him last week," he replied smugly. Her fingers twitched, as if she was itching to deck him a good one.

"I already said no."

"Your lips said no, but your eyes said 'yes'." She snorted in response and he could almost hear her eyes roll.

"I hate you, you know that?" she said. He turned around and faced her, his eyebrow raised.

"Uh-uh," he quoted her. "You couldn't hate me if you tried."

"Then you hate me."

"That's still open to debate, but I still wanna marry ya."

* * *

><p>"See, Daddy, you're not supposed to throw food!" Lucy informed her father sternly. Her little eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown, causing Danny to laugh. She knew firsthand how bad throwing food and not saying 'yes ma'am' when a grownup said no could be. "Unca Donnie, when Auntie Zee-Zee says 'no', you need ta listen to her. Dat's rude when you keep askin'."<p>

Lindsay fought a smile at her daughter's stern reprimand to her father and surrogate uncle. Danny had jokingly thrown rolls at Isabella and Lindsay, causing quite an uproar from Lucy.

"Yes, ma'am, Miss Lucy," Danny and Don chorused. Lindsay could no longer suppress her giggle as Lucy gestured to them in an 'I'm watching you' fashion.

"Mommy, shh!" Lucy said. Isabella covered her mouth with her napkin to stifle her laugh.

"Tell you what, Uncle Donnie," she said, propping her head on her hand. "I'll say yes if you do one thing for me."

Don raised his eyebrow for elaboration.

"Do your Lucky Charms thing and I will say yes."

His face fell instantly. It was clear the dark-haired detective immediately regretted his words as he forced them out.

"It's magically delicious?"


End file.
